


Bread & Butter

by Mistressaq



Series: Small Projects [6]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Being Walked In On, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Formalwear, Knifeplay, Married Couple, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, if you can call it sex, kink is catching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistressaq/pseuds/Mistressaq
Summary: Careful where you play, because kink is catching.
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova, Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels
Series: Small Projects [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484927
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Bread & Butter

Trixie walked ahead of Katya as they made their way out of the ballroom. Immediately once she stepped through the doors and into the hallway, Trixie could feel a light buzzing on her skin, all the residual energy from all those people. There had been warm bread and lucious butter, and the meal was supposed to be coming out soon, so she knew whatever Katya had planned would be done in a reasonable amount of time. She probably wouldn’t let Trixie come this early. She’d tease her through the event until eventually letting her have it on the ride home. 

The bathroom had a sitting area with a full length mirror before the sinks and stalls. Trixie made to check herself in the mirror, but Katya had her by the wrist in one hand and another on her waist. She found herself softly thrown, roughly guided back toward the wall beside the door. Trixie’s back hit tile and she huffed out half a breath. “Smart.”

“You’re damn right I am,” said Katya with a wicked grin. Oh, that grin. 

Trixie clenched her legs, not that she could do much else in this mermaid cut gown. It wasn’t like she could complain about the cut either.

The fundraising gala for the Children’s Inner City Enrichment Fund was formal dress. For women that meant ballgowns; for men, the same boring suits as always. The only special dress code rule was not to wear red, as the organizers and staff would be wearing red. Vanessa said in an email, “we don’t want any confusion.” This had absolutely devastated Katya, who threatened multiple times to just not go to the gala at all. “No red???” Katya had shrieked. “Trixie you've seen my closet-- all I OWN is red!”

Trixie had reminded Katya of the insufferably heavy beaded masterpiece that she now wore, pressed against Trixie in the bathroom. A sapphire blue, encrusted with costume jewels, beads and pearls, with a lace neck accessory, it was out of Katya’s normal color range, but Trixie had convinced Katya to pull it out of the closet and try it on, just to prove how stunning she looked in it. With the number of compliments Katya had already received this evening, Trixie was glad to be proven right.

Katya put down her leather purse on the arm of the chair behind her and went to search for something. _Oh God,_ Trixie’s stomach flipped. This skirt was way too long for her to try and smuggle anything into her underwear. What would it be, nipple clamps??

Far be it for Trixie to reject a chance to dress up, she had insisted Katya buy this headache-inducing hot pink crushed velvet fabric so she could make her dress for the gala. She had a couple friends come over to help her stone the gown, despite Katya’s continued offerings to just _buy_ her a dress. But no, Trixie stood on principle. It was her first time being introduced to Katya’s fancy colleagues, and she wasn’t gonna show up looking like anybody else. Her sugar mama had reluctantly agreed, going to bed alone while Trixie stayed up extra late working on her masterpiece. 

Katya made a satisfied sound in the back of her throat. Trixie stayed where she was, craning her neck to try and catch a glimpse at Katya’s mystery tool. She didn’t have to stew in anticipation for long, as when Katya turned around, she was grinning ear to ear, holding a serrated bread knife. 

Trixie’s heart stuttered.

Katya inched closer.

She cleared her throat. “Won’t uh, won’t our table be missing that?”

Katya continued to grin maniacally, fondling the knife between her thumb and forefinger. Trixie’s body had conflicting reactions— knowing she was perfectly safe, fearing the look on her lover’s face, anticipating what was to come— but mostly they presented _so horny._

It had been after Katya confessed her interest in being cuckolded that Trixie in turn opened up about her more salacious interests. Things she hadn’t actually done, but might want to. “I saw it in a movie, I don’t know which one,” she had said, unable to look directly at Katya’s too-excited face. “The guy had the girl tied up, and he had a knife, and he just…” Trixie had demonstrated, tracing the sharp edge of her nail over the tops of her tits. 

“The tying up?” Katya blurted. “Cause I do still have some bondage cords and stuff in the basement—“

Trixie had patted Katya’s shoulder. “One thing at a time.”

The neckline on Trixie’s gown plummeted deeper than it had originally in her design. Out of fear of a possible wardrobe malfunction, and desire to cut down on waste, Trixie repurposed some of the scrap material into nipple coverings that would match her dress, so if anything slipped, people wouldn’t really notice. Hopefully. Now, as Katya gently combed the bread knife over her chest, Trixie questioned the strength of those pasties. You could probably tell through the gown just how hard her nipples were getting. She pressed her palms against the wall tiles, digging her nails into the grout. 

Trixie let out a sinful whine. Every teeny individual point on the blade pulled a line of gooseflesh in its wake. She strained against her bodice, second guessing the strength of her stitching. She pressed her lips together, biting down on the inside of her cheeks. God, Katya’s teasing never did fail to get her all worked up. If only… if Katya reached down her top right now and played with her nipples, if she pressed that blade against _The Spot_ on her neck, Trixie might be able to come just from that. “Please.” It was barely audible. 

“Mm, what’s that?” Katya crooned. “I can’t hear you.”

And that’s when the door opened. Trixie barely noticed, she was so in the moment. If Katya noticed, she didn’t let on. But, the short woman in red who just happened to turn her head at exactly the wrong time. She did a double-take, walking backward once she realized what she’d seen. 

Peeking out from behind the corner of a stall, she stared at Trixie, big eyes asking an unspoken question. Trixie’s mind was still hazy, her body smoldering. It wasn’t until she heard the staccato tapping noises that she looked up.

And her pussy dried right up.

It was Vanessa, one of the two organizers, and she had 911 dialed on her phone, finger pointed at the Call button. 

“Oh no no, we’re good,” Trixie babbled, both her character and the moment broken.

Katya turned around to make the same discovery. “Oh God, oh fuck. Uh. This is all—“

“Completely consensual,” Trixie supplied. 

Vanessa let out a visible sigh of relief and put her phone down. “Okay good. Cause I was like—“ 

“Yeah, no. But thank you. For looking out—“

“Concern is appreciated,” said Katya, flushing beet red all up her neck and ears under her foundation. 

Trixie took the knife from Katya’s hand and stuck it back into her purse. “We should uh, probably get back to our table now.”

Vanessa brushed invisible hair away from her face. “Okay, enjoy the evenin’.”

“It’s a lovely event, really well done,” said Katya. “You did a great job.”

Vanessa held up a hand, the giant rock on her finger shimmering even in the sad bathroom lighting. After the door closed behind Trixie and Katya, Vanessa shut herself into the biggest stall and pressed her back against the door. _A girl can’t take a piss nowadays without witnessing some nasty act._

By the time Kameron and Vanessa got home, it was two in the morning and they were barely vertical. At the same time, it’s not like they could sleep. The night had been a huge success, raising a grand total of $31,750 for the kids. Vanessa’s heart had gotten so soft she felt like dropping to her knees and weeping for the rest of the night. Kameron shed a few tears, and that really set her off. Once her wife had started, Vanessa had not been able to keep her cheeks dry. She couldn't remember the hand shaking or the cordialities that must have followed, but her feet and calves ached, that was for sure. Her eyes were now so dry they felt almost sticky.

“ _Baaaabe_.” She heard Kameron sing in her pouty voice.

All Vanessa had the strength for was “mm.” 

She felt her wife turn over in their bed to face her. They’d done off with most of their costumes at the venue, only keeping on the essentials for the car home. It was in the car that Vanessa removed the balled-up caftan from her bag and pulled it on, just so she wouldn't be naked when she got out. Kameron had changed into matching blue plaid nightshirt and pajama pants once they got home, chattering away, high on the excitement. Vanessa, on the other hand, had mentally checked out. It took her brain a good ten seconds to process Kameron’s request, by which time her wife thought her silence meant refusal. Vanessa ruefully propped herself up on her elbow, then shuffled over to straddle her wife, taking the eyedrops from Kameron’s hand. Without talking, they relaxed into the action of taking care of each other. Kameron held her eyes closed as Vanessa squeezed a couple droplets onto her wife’s lashes. Kameron blinked the solution into her eyes. 

“They go in?” Vanessa croaked, her voice blown out from the night.

Kam nodded, sighing in relief. 

Vanessa dropped back onto the mattress. “Would you do me now?” 

Kam hummed in the affirmative. “You cried a lot tonight, babe. You want the burny ones?”

Vanessa groaned. Half through her pillow she admitted, “I might need the burny ones.”

Kam pulled out the prescription strength drops and bent over her wife. “Remember to relax,” she said, seeing Vanessa’s shoulders practically up to her ears. She did her best, and when she blinked the stinging liquid into her eyes, she did her best to contain her pained noises (“ow, ow, ow, ow, ow”). 

Kameron put the drops away and laid back down. “Feel better?”

“Ow.”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you, Kam.”

“You’re welcome, my love.” Too tired to physically touch her lips to Vanessa’s, Kameron kissed her hand and reached her hand over to wherever on her wife she could reach. 

It seemed like an eternity they laid in bed, resting but without their brains fully turning off. Their hands molded together by second nature. At some point, sleep must have settled in, as when Vanessa woke up, she was alone in bed with her caftan firmly wedged up both her ass and her labia. So that was fun. 

Pulling the sweaty fabric off, she stared at the sunken-in spot on the mattress Kameron usually took up. She pressed her hand to the sheets, and found them still warm. At the same time, Vanessa became aware of noises coming from the kitchen. An appliance beeping, a drawer opening and closing, plates clattering softly as they get picked up and put down. 

Vanessa took advantage of the rare moment she had the bed to herself, stretching out fully, extending her arms and legs into a big X. Feeling her sore calves come to life once again, Vanessa smiled. Last night had been draining, but also so rewarding, and she couldn't think of anything she’d change about the evening. 

Kameron was back in a matter of minutes, carrying a breakfast tray. “Morning, my love.”

Vanessa let out a sigh of pleasure and scooted over to give Kam her side back. “How’d you sleep?” Vanessa rasped. She cleared her throat, and her wife handed her orange juice in a champagne glass.

“I slept well,” said Kam. She stirred steaming hot oatmeal with a small bougie spoon. “I don’t have to ask about you.”

Vanessa grabbed a perfectly golden piece of toast. She scoffed in mock offense. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Kameron only smiled. 

“Don’t tell me you recorded me in my sleep again,” complained Vanessa.

“No, no,” Kameron shook her head, still smiling. “I really wanted to though, it was so adorable. You really sound like a baby wood-chipper.” 

Vanessa rolled her eyes and finished off her toast. Kameron never pre-buttered the toast, knowing Vanessa preferred dry. So when she grabbed the next slice, Kameron also picked up the thumb-sized butter packet and a butterknife. Vanessa pulled the oatmeal to her side of the tray, unable to look away as her wife scraped cold butter on dry toast.

And then it hit her. So hard and suddenly that she nearly spat oatmeal all over their nice breakfast. The memory— the Thing that happened last night that — came rushing back. It was when she left the ballroom to pee that the night went fuzzy for her, until now. The Russian professor, the one who’d translated all the plays and poetry, the one with the mistress in all pink, holding a knife to her girlfriend’s titties up against a bathroom wall. 

“‘Ness, swallow.”

Vanessa’s body obeyed, breaking her out of her head. Kameron was looking at her, one brow arched. “You good?”

Vanessa nodded quickly and chased her oatmeal and the memory with a big swig of OJ. “Remembered something from last night is all.” Knowing her wife would take interest, she covered by saying “It was some dumb drama, I don’t even wanna relive it.”

Kameron nodded, knowing full well all the hoops and politics that went into organizing yesterday. The first time she and Vanessa had held the gala, it had almost broken them up. It had always been worth the hassle, though, for the kids... She thought about bringing up IVF again, but decided against it. Neither of them had the energy for that conversation right now. To occupy her mind, she started telling Vanessa instead about the leader of the humane society who’d come last night with one of the neighborhood kids. Before starting CICEP, Kameron had helped raise money for a number of causes, but this… she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather be putting her time and energy into. 

Vanessa felt bad for drifting off while her wife was talking, but she couldn't force her eyes away from that butterknife. And she couldn't stop the imagination train speeding ahead either.

Maybe she just didn’t want to…

_Goddamn. Never thought of people doing that kinda shit before. No one says it, but kink is fucking catching._

**Author's Note:**

> the concept for this fic was decided by putting characters, settings activities and relationships in MASH categories. this is what came from Katya, Vanessa, formal wear, knifeplay, first time, semi public. ive edited the game to have actual pairings instead of random characters, and i already have my next prompt idea lined up.


End file.
